L.E.D.
by
Marselienna Von Eschen
At work, I talked to 78 people and I avoided eye contact with all of them because it makes me uncomfortable. I work behind a counter. Before work, I made sure my hair looked good.
After work, I went to the bathroom.
And then I went outside, outside the mall, where all the lights were. Mostly there was bright blue.
I am near-sighted and lights that are far away are just lights.
I get on the bus, which is white, and pull out my phone. This is light I can see. I scroll through pictures of people. I still don’t make eye contact. A man whose appearance I didn’t see brushed up against me. I pretended not to notice.
I get off the bus at my neighborhood, with tall apartment buildings, and the light here is yellow.
In my room the light is TV colored. This is light I can see. There are faces that make eye contact with each other. They like to pretend people do that in real life. Then the screen goes to two girls who are dancing. I wonder if I should learn how to dance.
I wonder if that, too, might be make believe.
After work, I went to the bathroom.
And then I went outside, outside the mall, where all the lights were. Mostly there was bright blue.
I am near-sighted and lights that are far away are just lights.
I get on the bus, which is white, and pull out my phone. This is light I can see. I scroll through pictures of people. I still don’t make eye contact. A man whose appearance I didn’t see brushed up against me. I pretended not to notice.
I get off the bus at my neighborhood, with tall apartment buildings, and the light here is yellow.
In my room the light is TV colored. This is light I can see. There are faces that make eye contact with each other. They like to pretend people do that in real life. Then the screen goes to two girls who are dancing. I wonder if I should learn how to dance.
I wonder if that, too, might be make believe.
NUNUM
Blending Flash Fiction & Art
